NOTICE

NOTICE

Friday, February 20, 2015

What is this Madness?

I have long passed the day when I could tell when I knew from normal and insanity.  I've never been sane. I've only ever been me. I love too much.  I hurt too much. I dream too much.  And now, at the end phase of my life, I have so little left, I feel emptied and without hope. I've gone mad.

 MADNESS

"I myself spent nine years in an insane asylum and I never had the obsession of suicide, but I know that each conversation with a psychiatrist, every morning at the time of his visit, made me want to hang myself, realizing that I would not be able to cut his throat."  Antonin Artaud


“Who in the rainbow can draw the line where the violet tint ends and the orange tint begins? Distinctly we see the difference of the colors, but where exactly does the one first blendingly enter into the other? So with sanity and insanity.”   Herman Melville


“Since I don't smoke, I decided to grow a mustache - it is better for the health.However, I always carried a jewel-studded cigarette case in which, instead of tobacco, were carefully placed several mustaches, Adolphe Menjou style. I offered them politely to my friends: "Mustache? Mustache? Mustache?"Nobody dared to touch them. This was my test regarding the sacred aspect of mustaches.”― Salvador Dalí, Dalí's Mustache


“The thoughts written on the walls of madhouses by their inmates might be worth publicizing.”― Georg Christoph Lichtenberg


“Did I ever tell you about the man
who taught his asshole to talk?

His whole abdomen would move up and down,
you dig, farting out the words.

It was unlike anything I ever heard.

Bubbly, thick, stagnant sound.

A sound you could smell.

This man worked for the carnival,you dig?

And to start with it was
like a novelty ventriloquist act.

After a while,
the ass started talking on its own.

He would go in
without anything prepared...

and his ass would ad-lib
and toss the gags back at him every time.

Then it developed sort of teethlike...

little raspy incurving hooks
and started eating.

He thought this was cute at first
and built an act around it...

but the asshole would eat its way through
his pants and start talking on the street...

shouting out it wanted equal rights.

It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags.
Nobody loved it.

And it wanted to be kissed,
same as any other mouth.

Finally, it talked all the time,
day and night.

You could hear him for blocks,
screaming at it to shut up...

beating at it with his fists...

and sticking candles up it, but...

nothing did any good,
and the asshole said to him...

"It is you who will shut up
in the end, not me...

"because we don't need you
around here anymore.

I can talk and eat and shit."

After that, he began waking up
in the morning with transparentjelly...

like a tadpole's tail
all over his mouth.

He would tear it off his mouth
and the pieces would stick to his hands...

like burning gasoline jelly
and grow there.

So, finally, his mouth sealed over...

and the whole head...

would have amputated spontaneously
except for the eyes, you dig?

That's the one thing
that the asshole couldn't do was see.

It needed the eyes.

Nerve connections were blocked...

and infiltrated and atrophied.

So, the brain couldn't
give orders anymore.

It was trapped inside the skull...

sealed off.

For a while, you could see...

the silent, helpless suffering
of the brain behind the eyes.

And then finally
the brain must have died...

because the eyes went out...

and there was no more feeling in them
than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk.”

William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch



“Now because 18 months ago the first dawn, 3 months ago broad daylight but a very few days ago the full sun of the most highly remarkable spectacle has risen — nothing holds me back. I can give myself up to the sacred frenzy, I can have the insolence to make a full confession to mortal men that I have stolen the golden vessel of the Egyptians to make from them a tabernacle for my God far from the confines of the land of Egypt. If you forgive me I shall rejoice; if you are angry, I shall bear it; I am indeed casting the die and writing the book, either for my contemporaries or for posterity to read, it matters not which: let the book await its reader for a hundred years; God himself has waited six thousand years for his work to be seen.”― Johannes Kepler, Harmonies Of The World


"No renuncies jamás a tus sueños, los cuerdos nada saben del sueño admirable de un loco!"
Charles Baudelaire, Las flores del mal 


“Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.”― Sigmund Freud


Tuesday, February 10, 2015

The Real Gift of Prometheus

Titans were a form of being lesser than gods, but greater than humans. And in the Greek myths the gods were separated by origins and destiny.  The first gods were primal and more about the creative forces of life and the world, the second wave, their children, rebelled against them, and chose to assign powers and domains to the appropriate god, or titan.

Humans were far down the ladder in terms of powers and principalities.  We had no place in the order of the gods.  But Prometheus took pity upon humanity.  His name is associated with forethought, and some place that to mean, ability to plan, and trick the gods.  According to legend, Prometheus molded humans of clay, and he was proud of his creation, while the other gods ignored them.  The humans were cold, without the powers of fire, forever eating bits of food that were hard, gristle and unnourishing. They were ignored by the gods.

To alleviate the struggle first Prometheus tricks Zeus into accepting the parts of animals inedible for humans.  Thus leaving the finer portions for our benefits.  Then he stole fire, so as to allow humans to cook, to warm ourselves, and to change the earth by burning.  Zeus became angered by this.  First he was tricked into giving these humans food.  Then he saw this gift of fire being given away, without cost.  Yes, it would have a cost, but not for the humans.  By now the gods knew that humanity understood fire and could not be punished for having it, without starting entirely over. But Prometheus could be punished.

So Zeus had Prometheus punished, by chaining him to a rock, where he'd be left unable to defend himself, and an eagle or eagles (plural) would come upon him daily and peck upon his flesh, tearing it open.  Thereupon feeding upon his liver, causing his agony.  By night his liver would grow back, as with a titan's great strength and near godly constitution, but by day, the eagles would return. 

Prometheus was the sole mediator at the time for the humans, to live, to grow, to flourish.  Zeus, the leader of the gods, upon Olympus, was to be tricked into good behavior, not trusted to be make good decisions.  Prometheus looked upon his clay figures, turned human, with love.  Zeus wished to punish humans for having fire, and unleashed Pandora, and her box of nightmares.  It was only over time, in the age of heroes that humans begun to draw respect from the gods, particularly Athena, and other gods so clearly good and honorable, and it was only for their titan Prometheus's sacrifice that they could have endured.  When hero child of a god Heracles took it as a challenge to free Prometheus the task was great, but finally, he was freed.

And without our titan, who made us of clay, and gave us fire, and gave us food, where would we be?

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) wrote a short piece on Prometheus, outlining what he saw as his perspective on four aspects of his myth:

According to the first, he was clamped to a rock in the Caucasus for betraying the secrets of the gods to men, and the gods sent eagles to feed on his liver, which was perpetually renewed.

According to the second, Prometheus, goaded by the pain of the tearing beaks, pressed himself deeper and deeper into the rock until he became one with it.

According to the third, his treachery was forgotten in the course of thousands of years, forgotten by the gods, the eagles, forgotten by himself.

According to the fourth, everyone grew weary of the meaningless affair. The gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the wound closed wearily.

There remains the inexplicable mass of rock. The legend tried to explain the inexplicable. As it came out of a substratum of truth it had in turn to end in the inexplicable.


Thursday, February 5, 2015

I didn't think I could do it.

I just read an article about a man who in a heartbeat knew what was right and it cost him greatly.  But he followed that good instinct and gave a better life for his child.

Samuel Forrest was given a gift with some long term expectations of care.

Before I became a father to my son, now 16, I didn't believe that I could do it.  At all.  A child with issues or many children, imperfections, whatever, I feared the consequences of having a child.  Not, NOT because I am lazy, but because I knew it would consume me.  Even with a normal, no grave health issues, child, I am still consumed, but, it is good. Having a child opened my heart.  It made me a better person.

I cannot support financially Samuel Forrest (18k out of pocket despite having insurance due to having cancer...) but I wanted to share the story to help him spread the word and get financial help.

Thank you if you can help, in any way.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

The End Game

The battle for eternity is beyond my imagining
A heavenly host led into battle with weapons singing
Against an equally powerful foe
Filled with bile and hatred so heated their bodies glowed
This battle is not fought by the redeemed
It was not to be fought by wicked and condemned 
It was more than any nightmare
Or dream
But here it is, far too large for me to understand
Out of my control, out of my hands
The battle is not for redemption
The opportunity for that ended with the endless confessions
From the people who do not see or seek
Eternal truths
The time to choose
Long since passed from their agency
Because of carnality,
Reeking of complacency
Just above the stars you can see them now
Two enormous armies
Archangel Michael leads the heavenly host
In righteous battle
While the fallen look to the bright morning star
For leadership
And the end of this reality
Is begun



 (Both the pic of Lucifer and of Archangel Michael were sent to me with the suggestion that they are public domain.  I haven't a clue if they are or not, but I will pull them from this should anyone inform me that they are not public domain and that there are copyrights attached.)